Clark in Skyrim, A continued report from across the border. Options

[ghastley]

If mALX is back, then Clark should return too.

We left him in Evergloam at the beginning of the 4th Era, where Nocturnal had just inducted him and Minx as Nightingales, to join Dralsi. The two other members of the first trinity had been slain by Ogrim the Restless, who was the original occupant of the cave complex that became the Twilight Sepulchre.

He's about 225 years old now. Nocturnal and Azura made him immortal, rather than risk having to train a new one. He retired as a Nightingale some time ago, and went back into business managing brothels, and other enterprises that remain profitable in times of war. Much of the other intervening history should emerge as this unfolds.

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Part 1 - Over the border

"So Gilda, have you been into Skyrim before?" Clark asked the young woman sitting next to him. Ahead of them, the horse plodded onward, pulling Clark's carriage along the road towards Helgen. He gave the reins a jiggle, but the horse's gait didn't change. It only knew slow and steady.

Gilda wasn't really paying attention. She was busy looking at the scenery, which is why Clark had asked. "Oh, what? No, I barely got a mile from our farm before now. Mother didn't like me wandering off; she was scared I'd run into bandits."

"Is that how your nose got broken?" Clark guessed.

"Yes, the one time I did get away, she turned out to be right. When the bandits found out I didn't have anything valuable, they ... well, you can imagine what they had in mind. I gave the first one who tried anything my knee, and he did that in return. The others didn't stop me when I ran off, they were too busy laughing at our discomfort."

"How long ago was that? It looks like it's been that way for a while."

"About five months, I think. One day was much like another at our farm, and I lost track of time. I can't thank you enough for getting me away from there."

Clark wasn't sure what had made him offer to take her with him. He did need a new apprentice, that was true, but why he'd suddenly decided it could be her was beyond him. It wasn't her looks, for certain. Apart from her nose, she had crooked teeth, and looked like she never ate anything. Her mother was the exact opposite, so it was clear where all the food went in that household. She was wearing one of her mother's hand-me-down dresses, which fit her like a sack.

But he'd stopped at the farm for directions when he left Bruma, and she'd caught his eye. Before he knew it, he'd told her mother she could have a good career as a merchant's apprentice, hinting that she might be able to send some of her earnings home.

And if she'd persuaded him to do that, she probably had some speech talent, so she might work out well. He'd need to heal her nose, and fix her teeth first, and that would need more magicka than he had. Once he got to Whiterun, he'd be able to use the Alchemy lab at his house to make some fortification potions, but until then he couldn't do anything.

"We'll be in Helgen before long," he told her. "It's just over there, where you can see the smoke rising..." Clark's voice trailed off, as he realised that there shouldn't be that much smoke. Something had apparently set part of the town on fire, if not all of it.

They soon met a ragged bunch of imperial soldiers coming the other way, telling of a dragon attack on the town. Clark didn't think there were any dragons in Tamriel.

"Nor did we, until that one swooped down on us," the legionary told him. "We were preparing an execution for Ulfric Stormcloak and some of his men, when it was interrupted by a blast of magic. Threw everyone around like dolls. We'd heard that Ulfric could use the Thu'um like that, so we had him gagged, but a beast that size doing it was something else entirely."

"General Tullius and the Thalmor Ambassador were there too," one of the other men put in. "We have no idea if they got out."

Nobody knew if it was safe to try passing through. There were trails to Falkreath that might be preferable, as long as you weren't hauling anything heavy.

"But watch out for bandits if you go that way," another soldier advised. "That applies any time you leave the main roads in Skyrim."

Clark had heard much the same from legionaries in Cyrodiil. In his opinion, the roads weren't any safer than any other route, just better paved. He let his horse continue down the road.

Helgen was deserted when they got there. Most of the population seemed to be lying dead in the streets, scorched by the dragon's breath. Anyone alive had presumably fled, and the dragon itself was nowhere around. Clark decided to continue down into Riverwood and let them know what had happened. If the dragon didn't attack there next, of course.

---

Riverwood was intact, but they'd seen the dragon fly over. Gerdur, the mill-owner, told Clark that her brother Ralof had escaped from Helgen, and she thought that Hadvar, the legionary from the town, had too. Ralof had brought a stranger with him, and she'd gone on to Whiterun to warn the Jarl.

Clark knew from his earlier trips that Ralof was a Stormcloak, and he asked Gerdur if he'd been one of the men the soldiers had mentioned as due for execution. Ralof hadn't mentioned that part, just that he'd escaped from the dragon. But now it made sense why Hadvar had been there at the same time. "I'll make sure Ralof stays well hidden," she told Clark.

She turned back to what she'd been doing when they arrived. "When the dragon flew over, I was so startled, I dropped this firewood I'd just split in the river. I was trying to dry it out with a flare spell, but it looks like I'll just have to split some more."

"There's an easier way, you know," Clark told her. He took one of the pieces of firewood and stood it on a stump. "Cast a frost spell on it," he told Gerdur. She did so, until Clark told her to stop. "Now dispel the ice"

Gerdur didn't know that spell, so Clark taught it to her. "Now try the flare."

The wood caught immediately, and she quickly dispelled the flames. "I hardly used any magicka doing that. It was a lot easier than the way I was trying."

"Right, especially as the frost comes easily to you. Here, I'll help you finish these."

"You make it look so easy," Gerdur told him. "Are you sure you're an Imperial, not a Breton?"

"It's all practice, not magicka reserves," he told her. "It looks easy because I'm using less magicka than you would. Just like you know how to roll a log instead of doing it the hard way by lifting. But some spells are beyond my normal reach. That's why I have to wait until I get to Whiterun before I can heal Gilda's nose."

Gerdur noticed Gilda for the first time. "I can help her with a good meal, and you too. I owe you for that firewood trick."

"I hoped you might. Cooking is where you show your skill."

---

"Looking at her, I expected she had no appetite," Gerdur whispered to Clark. "But she's on her third helping of the stew already."

Clark told Gerdur that he suspected her mother had been starving her. Whether that was to keep her thin, or just because the mother ate all the food, he didn't know, but the mother was really fat. "She didn't think enough of Gilda to get her teeth straightened, so I doubt she had any positive feelings for her."

"If Gilda eats like that all the time, she might take after her," Gerdur warned.

"I don't expect she will. I'll get Lydia to look after her, and she'll keep her fit, not fat."

Lydia was Clark's housecarl in Whiterun. She'd been part of the deal when Jarl Balgruuf made Clark a Thane of the city, for his services to its people. He'd forgotten what he'd done for them; nothing major, just a lot of small things that added up. And the Jarl had noticed his effect on the local economy. Even the Khajiiti caravan that camped outside the gates seemed to be more prosperous after Clark had arrived.

They'd be at his house, Breezehome, by the end of the day, if there weren't any problems on the road.

---

"Oh, It's you, Thane," the guard at the gate knew Clark, even if he didn't know the girl. "Is she with you? I have orders to keep strangers out, with dragons sighted in the area."

Clark vouched for Gilda, and the guard opened the gate for them.

"That's a new development," Clark remarked. "The only ones not allowed in before were the Khajiit traders. They have an unjustified reputation as thieves. Well, maybe it's partly justified, but they're not the worst. They just have a more sharing attitude to property than the Nords are accustomed to, and it's often misinterpreted."

---

"What have you got in the sack?" Lydia asked.

"That's not a nice thing to say," Clark admonished. "Even if that is a good description of her outfit. This is Gilda, my new apprentice, and we'll be exchanging that 'sack' for something better-fitting as soon as we can. She's about your height, so is there something in the wardrobe she can try on?"

"You know I only keep a few changes of armour. If you're looking for a dress, you're probably out of luck."

"Leather armour might be more comfortable, if it fits."

Gilda took a look in the wardrobe, but there weren't any dresses, and the leather was loose, even with the straps tightened all the way. She put the "sack" back on, and tied the string back around her waist.

"We have to go to Belethor's in the morning anyway. We'll find you something then. Come out to the back room while I brew up some potions, and then I'll see what I can do about your nose," Clark told her.

Lydia was already back at the cookpot, stirring up some food. She could see that the poor girl needed feeding, even if Clark couldn't.

This post has been edited by ghastley: Oct 2 2014, 07:52 PM

[ghastley]

Acadian: Unfortunately, you're only going to get brief overviews of the TG quests as Gilda reports back to Clark, without a lot of detail. He'll be doing a few of the other Riften ones, to establish a base there.

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Previously: Clark and Gilda arrived in Riften, and Gilda did some minor tests to gain admission to the Thieves Guild. She wants training, and Clark wants to find his daughter, Karliah.

This part is a bit early because of the holidays.

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Part 15 - Meeting Mjoll

When Gilda told Clark what they wanted her to do next, he knew something was wrong. The only beneficiary of that assignment would be Maven Black-Briar, whose Black-Briar Meadery stood in town, overlooking the docks. He told her to go along with their plans for now, while he asked around the market.

"Is that your new Thieves Guild uniform?" he asked. "I like the tight pants on you, but I think you're overdoing the top. Isn't it supposed to do up more than that?"

"It would if they'd had one in my size. This one's too tight, and some of the straps just don't reach. They tell me I'll get a better one after a couple more jobs, so not to worry for now."

"I'm not worrying, if you're not."

---

The woman in the banded iron armour, with the axe on her back, wasn't someone he knew as connected to the Thieves Guild, or the meadery, so he went over and started a conversation. Mjoll introduced Clark to her "saviour" Aerin, a young Nord who owned a property in town. To Clark's shrewd eye, Aerin appeared to be one of those minor sons of someone wealthy, who didn't have to work for a living. He wondered how these two were connected.

Mjoll told Clark how Aerin had found her wounded outside a Dwemer ruin, where she'd gone in search of treasure. He'd healed her wounds, and brought her back to Riften to convalesce. She'd found the city to be a cess-pit of corruption, and sworn herself to do what she could to clean it up.

Aerin didn't seem to be too concerned about the corruption, but he did seem genuinely worried that Mjoll might come to harm if she tried to oppose Maven Black-Briar. "She has the Thieves Guild in her back pocket, and undue influence with the Jarl. Much more than Mjoll can safely take on."

"Come on over to the Bee and Barb, and tell me more," Clark invited. "I'm sure you each have an entertaining tale for me."

Mjoll's story came out in a disjointed set of anecdotes that Clark had to piece back together. He could understand why she became an adventurer, not a bard, because she didn't seem to be able to keep more than a couple of sentences on the same subject. The only thing she could keep on track about was her sword, "Grimsever". She'd lost it in the Dwemer ruin where Aerin found her, and she felt helpless without it. Presumably it was the sword her mother taught her to swing. It certainly didn't have anything to do with hunting cliff-racers in Morrowind with her father. Seriously, who goes looking for those things?

They were all drinking heavily as they chatted. That seemed to be something all Nords did, and Clark had to admit the local mead was very repeatable. It might have accounted for Mjoll's incoherent tale, too, but Aerin told him she was always like that.

"I think it's the stress of nearly dying in that ruin. She won't be herself until she gets that sword back."

He went on to tell Clark his version of how he found her outside Mzinchaleft. Her armour had been ripped apart by the Dwemer constructs, and he could see that she was worth saving. His healing talents were meagre, but he did what he could at the scene, and brought her home with him. The priests at the Temple of Mara were able to do a better job, and she was quite recovered, apart from her pining for her sword.

"I hope she's rewarded you properly," Clark remarked.

"Quite vigorously, and often," the young man grinned. "But I wasn't expecting her to stay as long as she has. I'm quite worn out."

They told him what they knew of the Black-Briars. Maven the matriarch, running the whole town. Hemming, her son and deputy in all things shady, and his two children, Ingun the would-be alchemist and probably poisoner, and Sibbi, who was currently jailed for murder.

Clark was astonished at a custodial sentence for murder. Either you paid the family a blood-price, or became their servant, or you were executed. Jail was for thieves, debtors, and the like. Maven must have wanted Sibbi safely out of the way for a while, and would have him released when it suited her.

They also told him that Jarl Laila Law-Giver was totally ineffective, except for providing the Black-Briars cover. The guards did nothing to limit the Thieves Guild, which appeared to work for Maven. They could easily be bribed, although it was cheaper if you were a Guild member. Laila was nominally on the Stormcloak side of the Civil War, although it was common knowledge that one of her sons espoused the Imperial cause. Mostly, she stayed out of the way in Mistveil Keep, and let Maven run the city for her.

---

One thing Aerin and Mjoll hadn't covered was the skooma trade. It was clear to Clark that several of the dock-workers were using it, especially as one of them had told him as much. Wujeeta, an Argonian working at the fishery, had begged a healing potion from him to take away the withdrawal symptoms. He'd given her that, one that had a cure disease effect, too. Perhaps it would cure the addiction. He'd ask her tomorrow how she felt, and maybe get a clue as to where the skooma was coming from.

---

Gilda was back from her trip to Goldenglow Estate. She'd stolen the bill of sale from the safe in the house, but she wasn't happy about the vandalism of the beehives they'd had her do along the way. "Apart from the wasteful destruction, it meant more of a chance for the mercenary guards to detect me doing it. I ended up having to kill a couple of them."

"And I talked to Vex when I got back - she's the master lock-picking trainer - and she told me that she'd been there and failed to get in. I wish I'd known that before I went. Still, I got a burglary commission from her for the next time we're back in Whiterun. Which will be soon, as they want me to get my next job from some guy at the Honningbrew Meadery."

"OK, get Lydia to help out with that job, if you need her, but do the burglary on your own. She's no good at sneaking in that plate she insists on wearing."

"Aren't you coming?" Gilda wanted to know.

"No, I want to find out if the Black-Briars are connected to the skooma trade. They seem to be in control of everything here in Riften, just like the Silver-Bloods were in Markarth. And I still haven't found Karliah. Which probably means she doesn't want to be found."

---

Wujeeta pointed Clark at the warehouse as the source of her skooma. She'd never been inside it, always buying her skooma at the door, from a man called Sarthis Idren. Jarl Laila would have a key to the warehouse, of course, as the guards needed access to all the dockside premises.

Jarl Laila Law-Giver did have a key, and she was already aware of Sarthis Idren's skooma dealings. "But he's bribed enough guards that we can't get proof. Here, you try." She handed Clark the key.

This wasn't exactly what he wanted, but Clark took it anyway. He considered asking Mjoll for help, but he'd rather get her sword back before he did that. She didn't seem confident enough without it.

He visited the warehouse that night, hoping there would be nobody there. Of course there was, and he'd forgotten to cast invisibility. Sarthis fought viciously, knowing that he had no choice. It was a close call, and Clark had little strength when his body guard came up from the basement to see what all the noise was about.

However, he did have the magicka for a fireball. Clark was glad that the bodyguard wasn't another Dunmer, with resistance to fire.

Clark found several bottles of skooma, and a supply of raw moon sugar, in the basement, but no sign of any production equipment. They must be making the skooma somewhere else, and shipping it here, probably by boat. Then he discovered a note in a back room that confirmed it.

He took the note to the Jarl, who unsurprisingly asked Clark to deal with it. It was outside the city, so it was outside her jurisdiction. Or in other words, she couldn't be bothered.

This post has been edited by ghastley: Aug 5 2016, 02:14 AM